


Because

by DottyDot



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Post S8, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-27
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-19 01:35:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29742981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DottyDot/pseuds/DottyDot
Summary: Her wants are long buried, never forgotten but submerged beneath duty, beneath honor, beneath justice, and what right does she have to want? What right does she have to take?But his dark eyes plead for her to say what he cannot, what he will not.
Relationships: Jon Snow/Sansa Stark
Comments: 7
Kudos: 62





	Because

He comes to Winterfell rarely, always unannounced. It warms her heart when he appears; wind chapped, hair wild, a smile hidden in the corners of his lips. 

She should scold him for not alerting her, never writing, but it makes her feel as if he's coming home knowing he'll be welcomed, although it's been years since Winterfell was his too.

The smile comes out of hiding when she hugs him, when she shares every story she stored up to tell him over the past year, when he tells her of his adventures as a ranger. 

He stays a day or two, never more, only long enough to speak of recruits and supplies, hear news of their family, long enough for them to spend an evening sitting together by the fire while Sansa grooms Ghost, humming as she does. Jon drinks it in with thirsty ears, eyes full of something he will never put to words.

It's always after that night that he takes his leave with a gentle kiss left on her forehead. And after, she lies in bed and tells herself one tear is not too much to shed, knowing in the morning he'll be gone.

But this time, he stays one night, two, even a third and has not appeared at her door with Ghost by his side, and she wonders, tells herself she knows why, then wonders all the same. 

She isn't expecting it when he knocks the fourth night. Ghost walks in and sprawls by the fire, eyes her, expectant. Jon chuckles, settles down beside her as she adjusts her skirts and sets to work.

She says nothing; he doesn't speak either. 

He stares as always, but she cannot summon a song to her lips. 

They share the silence. 

Soon, too soon, Ghost shakes himself, signaling that grooming is over for the night, and Sansa reaches around his neck, buries herself in fur, in winter, in childhood. 

Jon stands, so does she, and she waits, waits, _waits_ to receive her silent farewell. 

Breathing is a task difficult to manage as he looks at her, afraid she misinterprets what she sees, but what she thinks she sees makes an unwelcome tear come to her eye. 

Instead of giving her her kiss, he averts his eyes, as if he cannot bear to see her grief, as if it reproaches him, "Shouldn't I leave, Sansa?"

" _No_." She's so surprised he spoke, asked the question that always drives him from their home, that she responds with honesty rather than art. 

"Why not?"

She whirls around, walks away from him, sits at her desk, moves papers here and there, anything to avoid looking at him. 

"I should stay?" Low, so low it reverberates in her. 

" _Yes_."

"Why?"

She cannot say it. She mustn't. 

"Tell me."

They never say anything about it, never. It's been so many years since he became her cousin, and they have never, not once, broached the topic again. 

But, she looks at him. The rise and fall of his chest matches the beat of her heart. The fear in his eyes is a reflection of hers. His sigh feels as if it left her lips.

He stands a few feat away; he stands within her. 

"I can't stay much longer. I'll never be able to stay for long."

"I know."

"He'll always be my father."

"I know that too."

"Then why shouldn't I leave?"

"Because--" and Sansa, who had found her voice so strong when speaking for her people, when speaking in defense of Jon, found she was at a loss when it came to her own desires. 

He circles the corner of her desk, his knuckles brush the edges of it as he comes to stand at her side, "Why shouldn't I go?" 

Her wants are long buried, never forgotten but submerged beneath duty, beneath honor, beneath justice, and what right does she have to want? What right does she have to take?

But his dark eyes plead for her to say what he cannot, what he will not.

She shakes her head. She can be strong like him. She does not need to break their delicate armor.

He breaths out, a long, shuddering exhale, and she thinks, if she does not say it now, she never will. That he will not take, never. He merely gave her the chance if she wanted to. If she dared. 

He is a small circle of light in the darkness, and she longs to tell him that, longs to hold him to herself, but he smiles, soft and slow. He stoops to drop a kiss on her head, a promise that this moment, like all the others, will be left behind.

Their secret comfort.   
Their fire in the snow. 

It's perfect, their armor, their moments that become memories, untarnished by words--such unwieldy things, so inadequate. 

As soon as she thinks it, she's reaching for his arm, pulls herself up to face him, _because I am not your sister_ , she thinks. _Because I want you_ , she thinks. _Because I love you? Because you love me?_ It sounds trivial, love does not convey what they are to each other: betrayal, war, murder. 

She buries her face in his hair. His fingers tangle hers. No, love is too short a word to explain what it is: trust, safety, life. 

If they don't ever say it, they could continue. Irregular visits, moments of happiness, _it would be enough_ , she thinks. But his forehead falls to her shoulder, his moment of weakness. _This is not enough._

Her fingers dig into his back, as she whispers, hoarsely, pulling the words forcefully from her throat, ashamed, fearful, joyous: "Because we both want you here. If only--even if it is only for tonight." 

Jon takes a kiss, gently, gives her his smile in exchange. 

She thinks this is her moment of strength, "Because you belong with me."

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> And to anyone who is waiting for the last chapter of "All That Is After"...I have nothing to say for myself. I will finish it, eventually, but I am just not happy with it yet. Sorry about that!


End file.
